


The One Where Ginny Keeps a Secret, Sort of

by Theartfulldodger



Series: Drarropoly '20: Founder's Edition [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Group Vacation, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theartfulldodger/pseuds/Theartfulldodger
Summary: Harry is determined to have a good time with Ginny and Pansy for a trip to NYC over the winter holidays, even if Draco can't join them.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley
Series: Drarropoly '20: Founder's Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025722
Comments: 15
Kudos: 65
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	The One Where Ginny Keeps a Secret, Sort of

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Drarropoly '20: Founder's Edition](https://gameofdrarry.tumblr.com/) using the prompt "Things are always easier in groups. Unless someone is keeping a secret" to include a group vacation, established relationship and non-linear storytelling.
> 
> Could not have done this without the beta assistance of the lovely @crazybutgood.

_ December 2005 _

Harry closes his eyes and begins to feel the nauseating pull of the portkey. The internal twisting and coiling is worse than he’s experienced before, likely due to the fact that the ragged teddy bear in his hand has dropped his body on the other side of an ocean. 

“Everything alright, Harry? You look green,” Ginny says sympathetically, releasing the bear’s foot. Ginny and Pansy, highly accustomed to travel via international portkey, casually straighten their scarves and coats while Harry drops the bear and takes several deep breaths to calm the turmoil in his belly.

He takes another gulp of air before responding, “Sure, Gin, it’ll pass. Just need a minute, that’s all.”

“The long distance certainly takes some adjusting. It wasn’t until Ginny played in that friendly in Queensland last year that I finally got used to it. You puked all over my red velvet pants on that first trip to Cape Town, isn’t that right darling?” Pansy chimes in while using a compact mirror to reapply her burgundy lipstick. Harry sees her smirk at Ginny in the mirror with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I remember. For the best, really, you not having pants,” Ginny mimics Pansy’s smirk and Pansy blows her a kiss in the mirror before snapping the compact shut.

“Alright, let’s go, before you two make me sicker than I already am,” Harry spits.

“Oh, relax, Harry. Just because Malfoy is stuck healing the masses of Stockholm for winter hols doesn’t mean you have to mope about the whole time,” Ginny says, a hint of sorrow in her eyes. Harry smiles, thankful for his friend and her unending supply of positivity.

The sun is heavy in the sky and the wind stings Harry’s nose as they make their way towards the hotel, a real ‘diamond in the rough’ according to Pansy. Ginny links her arm through his as Pansy leads them down the noisy and crowded sidewalk, heedless of others in her path, including the occasional taxi. 

“She’s phenomenal, isn’t she?” Ginny asks, clearly smitten by the elegant creature leading them towards adventure, unknown, and- 

“Hotdogs, anyone? I read that we must have hotdogs while we are here,” Pansy shouts over her shoulder.

Harry just shakes his head and laughs to himself, “Yep, a real classy lady you’ve got there, Ginny.” Harry looks up to be met with a face full of snow as Pansy brushes her gloves off on her coat.

“Sure is, Potter.” She winks at him and turns to lead them onward.

_ May 2002 _

The air was heavy and humid, unusually so for spring, when Draco found himself stuffed into a corner booth with Pansy and the Gryffindor posse that always seemed to be around. The inter-house outings were more commonplace as Pansy and the Weaselette became more inseparable. Draco found it nauseating at times, but the way Pansy glowed that spring made him bite his tongue.

The sun lingered into the evening, coating the pub in a golden hue and making the room feel a bit dream-like. A bead of sweat trailed down Draco’s back and his shirt clung uncomfortably to his chest despite the cooling charms enveloping the booth. 

Draco tapped his fingers along the worn wood of the table and sat quietly, absorbing the conversation around him, lacking the energy to engage. Luna found a new variety of Blibbering Humdinger that predicts the quality of one’s next sexual encounter if someone were to view its aura through bifocals during sunset on Tuesdays. The Harpies won their last match and were headed to Lithuania the following week. Seamus had a particularly lovely time with the new barman at the Leaky last night which involved the Weasley’s latest in their line of explicit products: Weasley’s Every Flavor Water-Based Lubricant.

Before Finnigan could delve into details, Draco shook his head and peeled his legs from the fake leather seat of the booth to get another drink and a little space. A light breeze blew through the windows that opened to Diagon Alley, providing a pathetic tease of relief from the heat.

A bell chimed as the front door swung open. “Harry! Over here!” Neville shouted from across the pub, as if Potter was too blind to see the large group gathered in the back of the room. Potter waved, but settled against the bar next to Draco instead, hair wild as ever and Auror robes hanging open to reveal a Nirvana t-shirt and cargo shorts. 

“Malfoy. Good to see you,” Potter said after ordering a pint and sipping at the foam on top. 

“Potter. Likewise. Nice choice of attire.”

Harry snorted. “These robes were not designed with humidity in mind,” he said as he tossed the robes over the back of a chair.

Draco and Potter were not the enemies that they once were, but Draco wasn’t quite sure that he could call them friends either. The energy between them had always been irritable, volatile, like a pile of kindling, threatening to ignite if they got too close.

They drank in amicable silence, sharing eye rolls and quiet laughs as their friends carried on across the pub. In true Gryffindor fashion, Harry ignored a warning spark and reached out to touch.

“So, have you heard The Shins?” he asked. 

“As in, the part of my legs?” Draco teased. He often found himself unable to muster the malice he had during their school years. He was tired of fighting, they all were, but not so tired that he’d wave off an opportunity to annoy Harry Potter.

Potter rolled his eyes and turned his whole body to face Draco. He was still leaning casually against the bartop, but gazed fixedly at Draco as he flirted with fire. The room grew hushed, or perhaps it was the roar of blood rushing through Draco’s ears. 

Harry smiled. Draco had seen that smile a thousand times, directed at a Weasley, or Granger, or hell even Pansy once or twice. But he’d never felt it aimed at him. It was that moment, Draco liked to remember, that he realized the fire between them didn’t have to be destructive.

“The Shins, as in, the band. Have you heard of them?” Harry asked again. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced over at his beer before taking a gulp.

Draco’s tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth as he replied, “No, Potter, can’t say that I have.” Draco took a deep breath and relished the burning sensation in his fingertips. “Maybe you can show me sometime? Over drinks?”

Harry choked on the last sip of his stout and Draco immediately felt dizzy with the whirlwind of revisiting every conversation he’d had with Potter over the last three years. He examined detail after detail, convincing himself that he had wildly misinterpreted every word.

“Just forget it, apologies for the misunderstanding.” The words spilled from Draco’s mouth as his body reacted rapidly to the feeling of vulnerability.

Harry quickly cleared his throat and rushed to respond, “No, Malfoy, er… Wait, Draco. Yes, I’d like that.”

“What?”

Harry inched closer and, more confidently, said, “Draco, I’d like to get drinks with you. And listen to music. With you. Soon.”

Draco felt heat bloom traitorously across the pale skin of his neck and collarbone. He leaned into the feeling and said, “Sure, okay, Potter. It’s a date.”

  
  


_ December 2005 _

Winter in New York is not as romantic as Harry had originally expected. Instead of sparkling white snow dusting the streets and benches, the city is covered in a grey-brown slush that’s been shoveled into heaps along the side of the roads and sidewalks. It is cold and loud and dirty in the city that never sleeps.

Harry has allowed himself the morning to wallow before he puts forward his best effort to enjoy the holiday again. He glances at the letter he tossed onto the nightstand and remembers Draco’s words,  _ People don’t just stop being sick because it’s Christmas, Potter. _ And of course Harry knows that. An uptick in publicity for his mentor, Healer Eklund, and her innovative melding of wizarding and muggle medicine led to a simultaneous uptick in admissions to their ward, meaning Draco couldn’t join them in New York. People don’t just stop being sick at Christmas, even if Harry hadn’t seen Draco in nearly eight months.

“Eat up, Potter, we are going out. I will not allow you to wither away in this hotel room any longer,” Pansy says sharply as she and Ginny pile through the door, shedding layers of scarves, hats, and coats, and setting breakfast on the bed closest to the door. Pansy drapes herself dramatically over the mattress, resting her chin in her hands as Ginny digs through the bag of food.

“She’s right, Harry. We are, in fact, not here for you to drown in self-pity but, now listen carefully, to  _ have fun _ . I know this is a foreign concept to you these days, but I want you to think really hard about what the word ‘fun’ means to you. Start here,” she says as she waves a bagel in front of his face. “It’s cinnamon and brown sugar with maple cream cheese. Merlin, I love American food.”

“‘Don’t drown in self-pity’ she says. ‘Eat this severely diabetic bagel’ she says. You know, Ginny, your logic leaves something to be desired,” Harry teases as he rolls over to snatch his breakfast from her callused hands. Ginny sticks out her tongue and ruffles his hair as he bites into the sickly sweet bagel.

“We’ll see whose logic is flawed on Friday when-” Ginny’s threat is interrupted by the flying bagel that hits her firmly on the nose. Clumps of brown sugar dust her lacy green top as she scowls at Pansy. “My love, might I ask why the fuck you threw a perfectly good bagel at my perfectly good face?”

“Sorry, my arm gets this weird twitch every time I’m around a loose tongue,” Pansy answers, raising an eyebrow. 

Harry takes another bite of his bagel, uninterested in deciphering his friends’ love language. “Your girlfriend is quite violent, Ginny, should I be concerned?” he asks before ducking away from his own projectile bagel.

Stomach full and a tad more motivated to take on the day, Harry follows his friends out into the cold. Despite the snow flurries and frosty wind, they’re happy to walk encased in Pansy’s exceptional heating charms. The tree in Rockefeller Center lurks, full and vibrant, above a crowd of ice skaters, the cold air filled with visible clouds of breath. 

Harry leans against the rail of the rink, watching Ginny and Pansy somehow look graceful and ridiculous all at once. Pansy, who evidently has a natural affinity for ice, glides easily around the rink. Ginny, whose talent for aerial sports apparently does not translate to ice skates, stumbles about, grabbing Pansy’s arm or shoulder or waist to keep herself upright. Eventually, the pair settle for joining the line of skaters hugging the railing at a sluggish, but safe pace.

“Harry, get your arse in here, now!” Ginny yells as they approach him along the railing.

“Oh, I don’t know Gin, you’re doing so well. How could I compete?”

“My, my, where is that Gryffindor bravery?” Pansy asks, flipping her hair and spinning around to face Harry. Several skaters behind her bump into each other, trying to keep themselves from plowing her over, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go, Potter, it’s Christmas. You are sad. You will ice skate and be happy. Fa la la, joy to the world, et cetera,” she demands, grabbing Harry’s arm and dragging him along from the other side of the railing until they reach the entrance to the rink. 

Ginny catches up as Pansy pulls Harry to the center of the ice, spinning in circles until he loses his balance. Harry, determined not to go down alone, tugs Pansy down with him and they both collapse. Ginny soon finds that howling at their mis-step does not help her own balance issues and soon they are all sitting in the middle of the ice, cheeks pink and ribs aching with laughter as other skaters continue to circle the rink around them.

  
  


_ April 2005 _

Draco watched smugly from atop his dresser as Harry stood in front of the mirror in his official DMLE dress robes, deeply focused on knotting his tie. It was their third Ministry function that month, and Harry still hopelessly struggled. Harry shifted his gaze to scowl at Draco in the mirror. 

“Well, are you going to help me or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?” he asked as he pulled apart the mess of silk.

“You think I’m pretty?” Draco teased, as he hopped off the dresser. “Why, I would love to help you with your tie, Harry. All you had to do was ask, darling,” Draco drawled, turning Harry by the shoulders to face him.

The silk felt smooth against Draco’s fingers as he tied a rather complicated knot at the base of Harry’s throat. Draco avoided eye contact until he finished smoothing the fabric across Harry’s shoulders, hands coming to rest at Harry’s waist. “There, perfect. Now, this hair, on the other hand-” Draco began, before being interrupted by Harry’s lips finding his, gentle but firm.

The minutes that followed somehow felt like hours and seconds and centuries rolled into one brief moment in time. Time was funny whenever he was with Harry. It stopped playing by the rules. Draco was quick to deepen the kiss, his tongue leisurely chasing the taste of peppermint as Harry’s hands lazily explored his chest and back. It wasn’t until Draco was pressed against the wall and Harry was reaching for the buttons of his trousers that he broke the kiss with a light bite to Harry’s bottom lip. 

“Mr. Potter, we are going to be late,” he exhaled as Harry abandoned his mouth for his neck. He left a tender bite in the dip just above Draco’s collarbone, earning a soft groan for his efforts. Draco felt his control quickly slipping and made one last effort to salvage it, weaving his fingers through Harry’s curls and gently tugging him away.

“Harry, people will talk if I show up with a neck full of bruises.”

“Let them talk. Actually, let’s just stay here. Really, we shouldn’t have even left the bed. Draco, if you’re leaving tomorrow, why did we leave the bed?” Harry pouted, weaving his arms around Draco’s waist underneath his jacket.

Harry’s eyes were dark and his face seemed to glow. “Merlin, you are so fucking gorgeous. We will resume this later,” Draco spoke against Harry’s lips.

Harry moved to whisper into Draco’s ear, his lips close enough to tickle the sensitive skin, “How do you think I’d look wearing this tie, and nothing else?” 

“Salazar, help me get through this dinner,” Draco lamented as he pushed past Harry towards the floo.

Harry grabbed his wrist before he could pick up a handful of floo powder. “Hey, wait,” he said, pulling Draco back to face him. “Draco, I am so proud of you for getting this fellowship. You’re going to kill it, I know you will.” Harry paused a moment before confessing, “I’ll miss you.”

Draco’s heart felt heavy in his chest as he brought his hands to cup Harry’s face. “You know, ‘killing it’ is probably not the best phrase to describe success in medicine,” Harry rolled his eyes, trying to pull away, but Draco tightened his grip. “No, really, sorry. Let me try again.” Draco cleared his throat and continued, “Harry James Potter, I love you. And I will miss you every single minute of every single day. But I know we have both been through worse than a year apart. It will be okay. You will be okay. We will be okay,” Draco promised. He tucked a stray curl behind Harry’s ear before pressing his lips to the lightning sprawled across his forehead and interlacing their fingers. “Now, shall we?”

  
  


_ December 2005 _

Mumblings and whispers throughout the week revealed that New York had hidden wizarding spaces, bars, restaurants and the like, tucked right in between muggle storefronts throughout the city, cleverly veiled in plain site with the aid of masterful muggle-repelling and illusion charms. Pansy’s determination to find as many as possible is why they found themselves at The Nine of Cups on Christmas Eve. 

Despite the holiday, there are still a fair amount of people spread out amongst the tables as they push through the large wooden front doors. The first floor is filled with small tables surrounded by plush velvet chairs and sofas. Multi-colored lights hang from every possible shelf, hook and surface. A small Christmas tree is tucked in the back next to a wood burning fireplace, lending the space a warm and cozy atmosphere. A wrought iron staircase curls around the left side of the room, leading to a less crowded balcony, also fully lit for the holiday. Wizarding architecture is clearly at work, the bar obviously larger than the outside structure should allow. 

“What are you drinking, Harry?” Pansy asks as she approaches the bar where cocktails shake themselves and the bartender flips through a magazine.

“Er, toddy? Anything warm. Thanks, Pansy.”

“Why don’t you go upstairs and find us an open table? We’ll bring up the drinks,” Ginny says, a clever grin on her face that Harry doesn’t feel like examining.

“Sure, okay, Gin. I’ll be upstairs then.”

Harry weaves his way through the crowd and follows a row of twinkling white lights up the staircase. The balcony is more compact than the lower level, but still noticeably expanded using magical means. He can taste the crisp and woody magic in the air as he looks for an empty table. 

At first glance, there are no open tables, but something else catches his eye near the fireplace in the corner. Harry cleans his glasses on his scarf, but the image before him remains unchanged after returning the frames to the bridge of his nose. Icy blond hair glows with the hues of the red and green sparkling lights dangling from the mantle, and it’s longer than it was, pulled back into a small knot at the base of his neck. Draco’s pointy nose is, of course, buried in a book, and his signature finger of whiskey sits in a tumbler with no ice. 

Harry gapes as he stands frozen at the top of the staircase. He waits for someone to leap from the fireplace and shout ‘just kidding!’ but no one does. Instead, Draco Malfoy looks up from his book, marks his page, and lays it gently on the table. He gazes earnestly at Harry, raises an eyebrow and lifts the corner of his lip ever so slightly. He looks stunning, and, Harry thinks, thousands of miles away from anything safe and familiar, he looks like home.

“Well, Potter, I knew I shouldn’t have startled you. Have I caused an aneurysm or are you going to get your beautiful arse over here?”

Finally sure that Draco is indeed sitting in front of him rather than some elaborate illusion, Harry rushes to the table to meet Draco as he stands from his chair. He feels his world, at that moment, collapse into this one fine point consisting of the blond man in his arms.

“Surprise,” Draco says as he pulls back to look at Harry, resting his hands on his shoulders.

“Surprise? How did you get here? Why are you here? Your hair, it’s, your hair… Did those bitches know about this?” Harry turns to look for Ginny and Pansy but they are nowhere in sight. 

“Hey, Harry, look at me,” Draco says, pressing a finger to the side of Harry’s chin so they face each other again. “Hi, I missed you.”

Harry smiles and presses his lips gently to Draco’s, falling into an unforgotten rhythm. They part briefly and Harry says, “Hi, I missed you too.” He gives Draco another firm kiss, hands exploring the familiar territory of Draco’s chest before his fingertips dip into the wide knit of his sweater. “Now, answers! I need answers, Draco,” he says as he maneuvers Draco into his chair and settles next to him.

“Well, if you demand it, it shall be done,” Draco smirks before pinching the back of Harry’s arm. “Let’s see, yes, surprise, as I said. It means that something happens that you are generally not expecting to happen. Usually, a surprise is a good thing, but in certain connotations- Ouch, Potter, you prick.”

Harry laughs as Draco rubs at the back of his own arm. “I can’t believe you just called me, _ me, _ a prick. Honestly, do you hear yourself talk?” Harry reaches up to pinch Draco’s ear, but Draco catches his wrist, entwines their fingers and lays their hands in his lap.

“Alright, but I have only been able to torment you in letters for the better part of a year. Can you blame me for taking an opportunity when you so graciously laid it at my feet? It’s our favorite pastime, for Merlin’s sake.” He smiles, a big toothy smile, and Harry almost loses his breath. “Anyway, yes, we’ve had this planned for all of eight days. I took a portkey this evening, although with the time difference, I don’t really know when I took the portkey… And, um, yes hair grows. Do you like it? Oh, good, I was hoping you would. It makes me feel a tad mysterious. Anyway, those two, what did you call them, bitches? Those bitches, our bitches, helped make the arrangements, and miraculous as it may be, were able to keep a secret for once in their god damn lives. Wonders never cease,” he smirks as he squeezes Harry’s hand under the table. 

“I’m impressed, perhaps I should put more faith in those two. This is all great, Draco, but really, why are you here?”

“Patient load lightened up late last week, people waiting until after the holidays to come in, I suppose. Which I wouldn’t endorse if it’s a real problem, but hell, worked out for me. Booked the portkey this past weekend, but everything departing earlier in the week was full. So here we are. Ginny picked this bar, haven’t a clue why,” Draco chuckles.

“It’s… cozy. Festive!” Harry laughs. 

Draco squeezes Harry’s hand again, as if reminding himself that the moment is real, and sighs, “I’m leaving Sunday morning, to go back to Stockholm. Don’t look like that, I’m not finished. I’m going back Sunday morning, but I do have some good news. You know this new medical strategy, combining magic and muggle medicine, it’s not really done anywhere else?”

“Is that why you’ve been living in Sweden instead of with me in London?” 

“Oh shut it, listen. Ever since Healer Eklund started receiving more press, there has been a lot of interest in how she started her ward, how she conducts her research, and how to apply these new techniques. Especially since we have proven positive outcomes these last couple of months. We’ve had interest from all over the world, Harry: Paris, Dubai, here in New York, even some small, insignificant town called London. You may have heard of it,” Draco says, an expectant look on his face.

“Draco, I don’t know what this means,” Harry says.

Draco turns in his seat to face Harry, bumping knees under the table but not relinquishing the grip on his hand. His face is serious when he says, “It means, Harry, that I’ve been asked to lead the development of a mixed medicine program at St. Mungo’s starting this February. As soon as we have the space and the staff, I’m coming home.”

It takes a moment for the news to travel across the synapses of Harry’s nerves and settle warmly in his core. He stares, blinking at Draco, and all he can think to say is, “You’re coming home?”

Draco exhales and releases his hands to wrap steady arms around Harry. He rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder and his breath tickles the back of Harry’s neck as he exhales, “Yes, Harry, I’m coming home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work submitted to a fest and this was a blast to write. I hope you had just as much fun reading it. 
> 
> Come say 'hello' on [Tumblr](https://graymatters.tumblr.com/).


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